


Welcome Home, Steve

by LaurenWritesFics



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Captain America: The First Avenger, Gen, One Shot, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 06:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30000591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurenWritesFics/pseuds/LaurenWritesFics
Summary: Nick Fury pays a visit to Steve with a formal invitation to join The Avengers.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	Welcome Home, Steve

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: Any reference to existing copyrighted/trademarked companies/characters is done so without intent of ownership. The sole ownership of Steve Rogers/Captain America remains with Marvel.
> 
> This story must not be posted, reproduced or altered in any way without the express permission of the author.
> 
> * * *

A gentle breeze blew through an unfamiliar room. The gossamer curtains billowed. A shaky ceiling fan whirred, shifting a strand of hair from Steve Rogers’ forehead.

His eyes fluttered open. The mattress beneath him creaked slowly as he rose from the bed he couldn’t remember sleeping on. The lamp on the nightstand lit the corner of the room, in spite of the grey morning light that allowed Steve to confirm what he already knew – something wasn’t right. The baseball game that crackled from the radio, Steve had heard it before. He’d seen it before.

A subtle floral musk wafted through the door. Dark hair. Curved Merlot lips. Steve blinked rapidly. In his haze, he thought it could have been Peggy. When he regained focus, he saw clearly that it wasn’t. If Steve was hurt, Peggy would be by his side. _Where was she?_

“Good morning.” The woman closed the door and tilted her head, her voice low and strangely sympathetic. She glanced at her watch. “Or, should I say, afternoon.”

Steve’s lips parted in confusion. “Where am I?”

The woman clasped her hands together, her expression softening. “You’re in a recovery room in New York City.”

The longer he concentrated, the easier it was to see that this woman was a complete anachronism. Her curls were too loose, her stockings unseamed, her blouse a little too beige. Steve’s muscles tensed.

“Where am I really?”

Barely a beat. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Steve’s gaze hardened, his voice laced with suspicion. “The game. It’s from May 1941. I know because I was there.”

The woman’s pupils dilated, an almost imperceptible gasp leaving her mouth.

With cautious steps, he crossed the room to meet her. “I’m gonna ask you again. _Where am I?_ ”

“Captain Rogers…” Her voice trailed off with a slight tremble.

“Who are you?!” Steve demanded.

The door behind her opened. She had called reinforcements.

With a swift swipe, Steve knocked the men to the floor. The force of the hit sent them crashing through the wall, which broke a little too easily. When he stepped through the jagged hole, he saw the wooden beams, the flimsy paper.

None of this was real.

* * *

Dragging his hands down his face, elbows coming to rest on his knees, Steve let out a relieved huff as he realized where he was.

Safe.

A soft mattress. A line of succulents on the windowsill. The scent of warm, musty leather from the punch bag in the corner of the room. The discordant hum of mid-morning traffic. Nick Fury banging insistently on the door.

Director Nicholas J. Fury. The last man he wanted to see today.

Steve rose with a weary groan, flexing his shoulder blades, muscles loosening beneath his tight vest.

“Captain Rogers,” He peered over Steve’s shoulder at the homely pre-war apartment SHIELD had provided “looks like you’ve made yourself at home.”

Steve stood to attention. “Yes Sir.”

“Consider this a housewarming gift.” Barging through the door, Nick dropped a briefcase onto the table in the center of the room, pointing to the combination lock. “The code is 1918.”

Steve cleared his throat. He popped the lock, gripped the edge of the table, lowered his head and took a long, deep breath. The case was neatly packed with memories, pieces of a life he could never return to. The pocket watch he had clutched to his chest moments before he hit the ice. The photograph Peggy had slipped under his pillow during a bunk inspection. A letter from his mother, Sarah. He traced the familiar cursive lines, his breath slow and shaky.

“Thank you, Director Fury.” His voice was thin, wavering.

“Take all the time you need.” Nick laid a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Welcome to the Avengers Initiative, Captain Rogers.” He paused. “Or should that be _Captain America?_ ”


End file.
